Arrival in Katmandu

A mere 33 hours, 3 continents, and 3 flights after leaving my house, I landed at the Katmandu Airport, a bit dazed but excited by my first view of Mt. Everest from the airplane window. After clearing immigration and customs, I found Tashi Sherpa, our group's guide who will lead us up the trail in a few days, waiting for me at the airport. During an inexplicably long and dusty drive into the city in some of the worst traffic I've ever seen (and I've lived in Los Angeles and DC), Tashi and I had a nice chat about Buddhist and Hindu temples, Tibet, and Nepalese culture (he was born in Katmandu).

At my hotel, the power was out. Apparently Katmandu has rolling blackouts all of the time and each neighborhood has it's own schedule. Tashi had even showed me his blackout schedule on his iPhone. So after I got to my room, the bellman lit a candle for me (a first!) and I found my headlamp in my pack just to be ready. When I woke up from my nap at 5:30 p.m. all of the lights in the room were on and blazing away. I have no idea how long the power's supposed to be on , but I need to get a hot shower in while I can. The hotel uses a generator for a few hours a day, but I'm quickly seeing the need to take advantage of opportunities as they arise.

Thamel, the neighborhood where I'm staying, the neighborhood where everybody seems to be staying, has been described to me by friends as a "tourist ghetto" and "a bit like the bar in Star Wars." I just finished a quick walk and through the nearby streets and it's exactly like we see in movies when some movie star is dropped into [fill in the name of an Asian or Middle Eastern city] -- packed skinny streets with motorbikes, ricksaws, cars with bad exhaust, teeming crowds of local people, expats and young road-weary European kids dressed in the local fashion, dust blowing in the air, and hundreds of little shops trying to sell their wares to anyone who happens to glance their way. But instead of the fake Guess bags and Rolex watches you see elsewhere, these shops are full of Tibetan banners and posters, Indian inspired clothing, Hindi music, Buddhist art, bells, and statues, meditation cushions and handbags, and knock-offs of North Face outdoor gear. Unless I had landed in the medina in Fez the day I got to Morocco, I can't imagine a more jarring culture shock.

Ok, I better go grab a hot shower. The clock is ticking on that opportunity.